Pornographic Puppet Master
by LadiElayne
Summary: Lestrade has an obsession with a certain long beautiful coat wrapped around a tall lithe frame. so much so that his work is beginning to suffer. Then everything changes with one very unexpected phone call. Explicit language and adult themes, not intended for those under 18 please.


Pornographic Puppet Master

Jesus … that bloody coat! What is it about that coat that gets me going? Some days I don't really notice, what with work, constantly arguing with the wife and trying to get Anderson to think before he speaks … but then other days … all I see is 6 feet of sex draped in fine wool. Oh … to see him in _only_ that coat … ok, bad thoughts for work _focus _Lestrade! Watching as the man of my most lurid fantasies walked around the office, spouting his new deductions on a frankly unworthy case was almost like watching a cat circle their prey. Keeping his body in full view, it was like he knew what I was thinking, what I wanted, and did his best to torture me as much as possible.

Over the years I haven't hidden the fact that I find Sherlock to be a mesmerizingly sexual being. I haven't said anything or even hinted, but there is no way he hasn't noticed the way I stare at him. One week it will be his hands that my obsessions focus on. Next week it will be that perfect mouth. I purposefully walk into Sherlock's razor sharp tongue; and dry wit, allowing insults to wash over me with his liquid sex voice. There's no way he hasn't noticed by now that I call him in at least once a week regardless of the mystery of a case. I find whatever excuse I can to get him near me. As I said: I'm not trying to hide it.

Recently I've noticed he is being more overtly sexual, letting his voice deepen occasionally while bowling into my personal space. Being somewhat sexually suggestive, not enough to be obvious, but enough to get random twitches from my increasingly defiant cock. No matter how many times I envision dead puppies or Mrs. Hudson I still can't control the overwhelming tent that occurs in my trousers each time that man walks into a room. Twice this week alone I have been driven into the office loo for a fast and feverish wank. The first time it was because when Sherlock strode in all eyes and curls I was so enamored with his presence that I didn't realize he was standing directly behind me. Before I knew what was happening he was softly breathing on my neck under the guise of pulling lint off my suit jacket. Clearing my throat a few times before I was capable of speech I asked, "Sherlock, what are you doing?". Sadly my voice was a fraction of the strength and determination it usually holds and I could feel the bastard actually smirk before he said,

"I know you didn't call me in to remove lint from your jacket, so Lestrade … what's stumping you now?" When he said my name, he leaned just close enough to feel his breath on my ear, lowering another octave which went straight to my now throbbing cock. Then, just as fast as it began, it stopped. Backing away he walked around the desk and sat down, he maintained the air of all work and no play; typical Sherlock. After giving him the case file and other specifics of this latest murder I was forced to quickly excuse myself. Practically running to the toilet, I couldn't get my hand in my trousers fast enough. Slamming the door and locking it I removed my trousers and pants, letting them drop to the floor as I wrapped my strong hands around my already leaking prick. That first grasp was almost monumental. It was like my body was on fire and the only thing that mattered was my hand wrapped tightly around my source of the flame. Teasing myself I rubbed out the perfect rhythm for quickest relief to my problem. Once done I cleaned up and returned to Sherlock and the case file.

The second time I was forced into office relief was more of Sherlock's mind fucking. He seemed to be very interested in seeing how far he could push me without me calling him on his rather odd behavior. Knowing that I had somehow become part of one of his experiments, I simply allowed it to happen. I mean, he was inspiring me daily, making my sex drive more active than it was when I was a teenager, and I fucking _loved_ it. I forgot how great it feels to be so turned on that you can't think, twitchy to the point of not being able to conceal the need to touch. The man drove me completely insane, and as more and more time passed, I knew beyond any doubt, that he was fully aware of the situation and was pulling the chords on my arousal.

About a month after the last time I had to run into the loo for fear of coming in my trousers, Sherlock hadn't pushed any further. He still stalked into the office looking at me like he was starving and I was his dinner. But he didn't actually touch me again or position himself close to my ear. Thinking that the experiment was at its end, somewhat saddened by the lack of his constant teasing, I gave up. I stopped calling him in for cases that were below him, I did my best to keep things professional when he did come into check out evidence or abuse Anderson and Donovan. I dropped the whole obsession completely, well. Completely is the wrong word. I still fantasized very often of Sherlock and that bloody brilliant coat, but I didn't make it obvious at work anymore. Sherlock became just an image I used when wanking, which was still more often than before he stalked into my life. But not like it was when he was giving me very positive feedback.

After wrapping up a particularly hard case, I was looking forward to sitting at home with beer and football, blocking out the horrific crime that I had solved earlier—without Sherlock I might add. Just sitting down, getting comfortable in my cozy flat of course my mobile rings. Groaning at the possibilities I looked and it was Sherlock; actually calling me, not a text as usual causing my stomach to plummet. "He never calls me … Oh God. He's been arrested," I say aloud before picking up my phone.

"What's wrong Sherlock? What happened?" I say apprehensively into the phone, afraid to hear what his latest complaint could be.

"_Nothing,_ Lestrade", Sherlock practically keens into the phone; oh God…_that _voice…

"I was just wondering if you had a case that you might _need _me for yet" hearing Sherlock say the word need as though it was dripping in sin was enough to wake up my cock, but the heavy breath he took after requesting a case did me in. Springing into action I quickly became overwhelmed with images of Sherlock lying in bed, purple shirt draped over his shoulders, but unbuttoned all the way down. His trousers and pants pushed under his balls and heavy cock while he held the phone in one hand and his beautiful manhood in the other. Shivering at the image I nearly dropped the phone. Collecting myself I cleared my throat, and brought the phone back to my ear, "No Sherlock, not tonight. I just closed a case this afternoon, and I just want to relax, yeah? I'll take a look and call you tomorrow." Feeling that this was the end of our conversation, cock waning, I go to hang up and I hear, "_Wait_" from Sherlock's end, said in the deeper octave that drew lust from me, making me crave his next word.

"What do you need?" I tried to disguise the lust in my voice with concern, but it ended up coming out much deeper than I was expecting, almost an echo of Sherlock's beautiful tone. I hear what I thought to be a soft moan and it causes me to unwillingly arch my back and throw my head against the back of the sofa. I hear a small laugh through his deep exhale as Sherlock speaks, "What do I need…" deep sigh…"I need you, _Greg…" _what he didn't sexually imply, was stated with the deep shuttering exhale that followed this declaration.

Completely stunned I had no idea where this was actually going. I knew where I very much hoped it would go; I saw it ending in fantastic shagging. However, since Sherlock very rarely knows the sex appeal he is constantly inspiring in others. I respond in the most generic way I knew how. "You need me for what exactly? Some new experi- wait … Greg … you called me Greg …"

"Yes...I did…how very astute of you Lestrade…I need to know why I can't seem to get you out of my head; my very being seems to _need_ you, to be in your proximity. It's a puzzle I can't understand. I tried to experiment with the reactions I had to being as close to you as I could without diverting from my normal behavior. But no matter how close I was, I still needed more, my body _needed_ to be tight against yours…I wanted quite desperately to feel your hands on me, anywhere on me really, just as long as you touched me I thought I would be satisfied." Another deep frustrating sigh from Sherlock just put an exclamation on his point; he wanted me, a man who never _needed_ anyone now suddenly needs me.

The feeling was over whelming; my whole body suddenly shook with desire. The only thing I could think of was touching Sherlock as he described. Rubbing my hands across his lithe form, fingers carding though those luscious curls, touching his soft lips… good GOD Lestrade get it together! Not even realizing it as my mind was lost in the wanting for Sherlock I was slowly pressing my hand over my terribly heavy erection. Jesus…I'm having phone sex with Sherlock bloody Holmes... Didn't see that happening in my future, that's for sure! However, if I was ever going to have phone sex, it would most definitely be best with a man like Sherlock, he could read _Mary Had A Little Lamb_ and make it erotic.

Coming back into the reality that had somehow mimicked my fantasies, I asked "So then…what would you like to do about this _need_ Sherlock." My voice came out deep and heavy with lust that I abruptly decided not to hide or disguise. "If you needed to feel me next to you, then wouldn't a visit be more appropriate than a phone call?" I somewhat expected Sherlock to hang up and either rush to my flat or feel embarrassed by his confession and avoid all contact for a bit. But what I didn't expect was his reply.

"I thought about that, and it occurred to me that I don't exactly know if the feeling I have is exactly what you think it is, so another experiment is actually needed."

"Sherlock! I'm not some bloody variable you can just toy with! If you want me come and get me, I'm really too tired for anything else." Seriously considering hanging up and just having a quick wank, I tried very hard to ignore the sudden silence on the other end of the line. Just as I was beginning to think he had hung up he responds quietly, "But I trust you to help me understand _why_ I can't handle this on my own. I have tried almost everything I can think of to just get it out of my system so I can get back to the cases; but nothing seems to be working!" My curiosity is piqued for certain, and I am now trying to figure out if he is batting around the issue of arousal, or if it's something more…_Sherlock_ that I am dealing with.

"Ok, calm down, I hate it when you whine like that. What is it that you have tried so far, so that I will know what you might have in mind for the next step in this experiment?"

"As I stated, I have tried getting into your physical proximity and see if it helps; I have tried to coerce you into touching me, but as always you were not _paying attention_ and therefore never actually touched me. I have even go so far as to spend long moments in my bed, thinking of what your hands must feel like all over my body, living in the thoughts of it until I-"

"Wait, Sherlock, are you saying that you want me, sexually…that you were…_wanking_ while thinking of me…?" Yup…that woke my cock up to full strength…to think of all those times when I was compelled to ease my frustrations by self-abuse at the office…Sherlock was doing something similar. Well, that's…new. Before I give him time to become embarrassed, just in case it might affect him in that way, I quickly jump right into the deep end, "I find it very interesting that you were thinking of me while touching yourself…you have to be aware that I have been picturing you in a similar way." To avoid my own embarrassment at having phone sex at middle age, I continue, lust coming once again to deepen my words. "There have been times at the office where you were so close to me that it took every ounce of my will power not to throw you up against the wall and devour you. Sadly however, I thought you were off limits…so I was forced to take matters into my own hands...as it were." Hoping that the cheesy joke would soften any unease this confession may cause, I wait on the other end, hoping that Sherlock follows through. Otherwise, tomorrow is going to be a very uncomfortable day.

Hearing a very slow, almost pleased exhale, Sherlock's throaty voice comes back, completely soaked in sin," – "So then…the next part of the experiment would be for us to please ourselves…but have some part of each other in the room as we do it. Since I don't know if am ready to physically be in your proximity; phone sex seemed to be the next step."

Puffing out a small laugh, "well I kind of thought we were already doing that"

"Well _Greg, _at least one of us is" taking a deep sigh, Sherlock lets out a short moan that went right from my ear to my cock. Quickly raising my heartbeat and sending my impossibly hard cock a jolt, causing it to scream for attention.

"Jesus Sherlock…you are impossibly arousing, you know that?" switching my phone into my left hand, I slowly let my right hand drift down my torso. Lightly rubbing and scratching my nipples; I tilt my head back, take a deep breath and reach down into my straining trousers and pants to release my tortured prick. The cool air in the room is exhilarating as it hits the fiery flesh, coaxing a moan from me that was much louder than expected.

"Damn, Lestrade…You aren't so bad either…So tell me, when you were driven to taking matters into your own hands as you put it, what were you imagining exactly?"

Ok, fine, he wants it like that does he, no give and take with Sherlock is there…well let's see how serious he really is about this little infatuation.

"Well, the first time I was so taken with you that I had to actually escape to the restroom, it was your coat. Well more specifically, you in the coat…in _nothing_ but the coat. Keeping it unbuttoned of course, I could just imagine how wonderful your skin would look against the wool, just peeking out amidst the darkness. How the satin lining must feel against your skin was you walked around, sat down and eventually laid back upon it. I would have you laid across my desk for me to inspect, admire and seduce. Like unwrapping a present I would slowly slide the coat away from your body, letting it fall to the side of your frame. Then starting from your shoulders, I would lightly trace the outline of your rather obvious collar bones"

"Now it's my turn to be ridiculously aroused… You really thought about this?" Sherlock says.

It's rather obvious from the heavy breathing and slight moaning that Sherlock was most definitely touching himself while I was talking. But with his last statement it seems that he isn't just interested in the phone sex…He needs to be wanted by me, just as I need to be wanted by him. I never realized how arousing it would be to have Sherlock weaken for me…_me_…but God I really need to make this good so that I can actually make him weak in person and watch those eyes as he comes.

"Of course I have thought about this, you are breathtaking, I'm pretty sure at one point or another half of my squad has thought of you while having a wank. But they never see you as I do, yes you are a very beautiful body, and mind of course, but they have never seen the slight glimpses of the man I know is in there. And the real you, the one that called me tonight, who craves my attention, is the one I want so passionately. Thinking of how beautiful you would be laid before me, waiting to be pleased, and then taking you apart with my body has always been a fantasy of mine. I want to hear you tremble and shake and feel you moan into my mouth before screaming my name." letting out my breath slowly, so as not to let on that what I said was not just the truth, but something I had guarded since I first laid eyes on Sherlock all those years ago. Yes, I have wanted him since day one; I have needed to see him aroused, and blissed out. But most importantly I needed to see him happy, preferably, happy with me. But…first things first, if he is just now experiencing the attraction I can't jump into things too quickly. If all he wants is attention and sex, I would prefer that I am the one to give it to him, who knows who or _what _he would do if I turned him down – not that I would.

"I don't know that I am a screamer Lestrade"

"That's because you haven't had me, _yet_…" letting him think that over I punctuate my sentence with a throaty moan at the image of making him scream…oh god...that would be enough to make me come right then. Backing off my cock, I work my way scratching and clawing up to my nipples once more.

"Ok, in your thoughts of me on your desk, after divesting me of my coat, what is your next idea?" Sherlock asks then releases the most erotic shudder I've ever heard. It was like I could feel the breath of it right against my throbbing cock.

"Hmm, well I would mostly just memorize your body with my hands. Running my fingers over every inch of that milky torso, lightly tickling you with my nails, watching the goose bumps and chills of need wash over you". Shuttering while touching my own flesh, I begin to draw my hands over my chest in the way I would so love to do to Sherlock. "As I slowly take in your chest and belly, I would move down to your hip bones, lightly clawing down to your inner thigh, watching your cock struggle for my attentions. Using both hands while positioned between your knees, feet handing over the edge of the desk, I lightly breathe on to the tip of your arousal. I watch as a bead of precome leaks out. Quickly I drop low and swipe the milky liquid from your hot flesh. So quick it takes you a second to realize what happened and by then I'm dragging my hands up your inner thigh and back across your hipbone."

"Oooh God…you are terribly good at this…you are making me rethink this experiment, I should have just shown up"

"Oh, but that's the point Sherlock, you wanted to know what I would do, to see if it helps the need within you, sadly I think this may make it worse. But all the better for me, because just phone sex will never be enough, I need to touch you, taste you, feel the heat from your body pressed up against mine, I want nothing more than to feel your tongue explore my body and mine taste that smooth flesh". Hearing Sherlock's breathing get a bit more heated, his voice getting raspier and I never thought this possible, but more erotic. I take my aching cock in my hand wrapping my fingers around it firmly and make one long stroke from root to tip, swiping the accumulated precome and using it to slicken up my straining erection as I begin pulling in earnest. My cool hand wrapped around the hot flesh sends shivers up and down my spine. My breathing hitches and knowing just how hot Sherlock must look right now, all splayed out on his bed, his long nimble fingers wrapped around his leaking cock… a tortured moan escapes. "God Sherlock…I have wanted you for so long, I swear I will get my hands on that body and set every nerve on fire, I will please you in ways you never even thought of. I want to feel every part of you, your flesh on my hands, your hips held between my legs, your cock buried deep down my throat—"

"Ooooh...Greg…I want that, too…." Letting out a breathy moan, I can hear Sherlock on the other end moaning and groaning. Each sound going straight to my aching crotch, cock throbbing under my swift hand, balls tightening, even my tight ass is craving this man. Feeling the slight tingle of orgasm begging to climb up my cock I abruptly stop, I _need_ to make Sherlock come first.

"I want to feel the hot heavy flesh between your legs growing hard for me, the taste of your sweet salty skin as you push it into my mouth. I need to know those soft curls as they tickle my nose as I take you as deep as possible, swallowing your prick down. I want your hand tugging my hair, pulling me tighter against your throbbing cock, shoving it even further down my throat. I want you to fuck my mouth Sherlock, I want to hear you moan for me as my tongue slowly teases and taunts the underside of your shaft. Oh god Sherlock…I want to taste and swallow every drop of you"

"Ooooh Jesus Greg…oh my god... You sound so hot right now…I wish I was there watching as you pleased yourself, knowing it was me you were thinking of swallowing. Hhnng oh GOD GREG! Oh Jesus! FUCK!" Hearing Sherlock's beautiful cries would have been more than enough to push me over the edge into orgasmic oblivion, but such common primal language coming from such a sophisticated mouth was more than I could take.

"Oh GOD Sherlock…oh FUCK…mmmmmmmhhh…" Moaning and arching my back as my body falls into orgasm, I become lost in the power of it all. Sherlock's words and fantasies mirroring my own, him needing the same thing I have desired for ages it seems. My body trembling as the edges of reality comes back into focus, realizing that I had the phone in a death grip; I cleaned off my hand and sensitive cock, placing it back inside my pants and trousers. Taking the phone back in my dominant hand I hear Sherlock's shuddering breath and I can only imagine how this must feel for someone who hasn't allowed anyone in for such a long time.

"Oh Sherlock, that was amazing, the only thing that could make that better would be if I could wrap my arms around you now, ease your shuddering blissed out body and kiss you deeply to remind you that we have only just started…"

Sherlock was laughing like a giddy child, and I knew I had said exactly what he needed to hear, I was beyond pleased with myself, letting the bliss wash over me. Smiling so widely that I knew I must look stupid, I was somewhat thankful Sherlock couldn't see me, but I still wished I could wrap my arms around him.

"So, did the experiment help at all?" Hoping that Sherlock intended to try this again or maybe go up a notch and actually get a bit physical, I froze.

"Well Detective Inspector…I believe that the results are inconclusive… That was exactly what I wanted, but I find myself still needing more… despite our actions just a moment ago, I'm still wrought with desire for your hands to be on me, in me and all around me."

"Jesus Sherlock…you're going to be the death of me."

"Give me twenty minutes and I will let you find out if I am in fact…a screamer" Sherlock whispers, all liquid sin and dripping passion once more. Then abruptly hangs up the phone. Jumping to life it occurs to me that he may really be coming over…to my flat. Right now…OH GOD… taking a moment to straighten up and make sure I'm fully stocked on condoms and lube, you never can be too prepared right? I jump in the shower and wait for Sherlock.


End file.
